


golden (as i open my eyes)

by thchateaus



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a tourist, Blow Jobs, Carol & Robin implied to be gfs, Christmas, First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, Lots of that, M/M, Massage, New York City, Sharing a Bed, kind of, literally just christmas fluff and smut wya, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thchateaus/pseuds/thchateaus
Summary: There were numerous reasons that made this trip a bad idea. Like, one, he couldn’t leave the kids. There’d been no issues with the demodogs or anything in a year but it was getting colder and the nights longer and he didn’t trust that town not to uproot itself the second he’d left it. And, two, Christmas is next week. He hadn’t even gotten Ms. Byers’ gift or any of the food yet and he was responsible for deserts. Like, who the fuck planned this shit?And three. Three was staring him down at the end of the parking lot, leant against the bus with a duffel at his feet as he tied his hair back. He rolls his tongue over his lips when he spots Steve among the crowd of students and makes the hairs on his arms stand.Or, a slice of Christmas fluff with Steve & Billy in New York.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 152





	golden (as i open my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this has not been edited in the slightest and I rushed it in two days so apologies for the inevitable typos and grammar issues. I wanted to write soft christmas fluff and so this was born. I literally have no idea what this is but I hope you enjoy. I LOVE THEM
> 
> PS - yes, Billy is kinda ooc in this if you consider him being soft and in love ooc. Whatever. Its christmas idk what to tell you
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS!

It's fucking bullshit.

Steve didn’t even wanna come on this state trip anyway, no matter how much Robin insisted it’d be fun and no matter how much Mrs. Click convinced him it was necessary. Right. Because doing band twice a week for extra curricular so he could graduate and get out of Hawkins required a state trip to _New fucking York._

And, like. It's a great city. It is.

He’d been begging his mom to take him on business trips she only goes on because she’s paranoid his dad is cheating since he could talk. _Maybe the next time,_ was the excuse ‘til it was as worn thin as his belief that they’d ever be home. He still had a shitty little snow globe with a model of the empire state building buried in his drawer. She’d sent it as an apology for not being home one Christmas.

Not the point.

And the school could somehow afford it thanks to the basketball team winning the final playoffs. Whatever.

There were numerous things that made this trip a bad idea anyway.

Like, one, he shouldn’t leave the kids. There’d been no issues in long over a year but it was getting colder and the nights longer and he didn’t trust that town not to implode the second he left.

And, two, Christmas is next week. He hadn’t even gotten Ms. Byers’ gift or any of the food yet and he was responsible for deserts. Not to mention, travel would be hell. Like, who the fuck planned this shit?

And three. Three was staring him down at the end of the parking lot, leaned back against the bus with a duffel at his feet. He rolls his tongue over his lips when he spots Steve among the crowd. It makes the hairs on his arms stand.

“Hey,” He says, gives a half-wave. And, really, they’ve kinda been getting on better in the months since Billy threw a plate over his head and a demogorgon fell out of Ms. Byers’ fridge and into Billy’s lap. This is okay. Still, weird.

“Morning,” Billy says, takes a last drag of his smoke before throwing it to his feet. And, huh. He’s actually _not_ being an ass. “You ready to start spreadin’ the news?”

Steve doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t. Robin throws him a side glance where she’s correcting her eyeliner beside him.

“Sure. We’re ecstatic, huh, Rob?”

She closes the mirror, pockets it and shrugs as if it's not all she’s been talking Steve’s ear off about for weeks. Billy squints like he detects it. ‘Cause, like, apparently he’s really smart at shit like that. 

(They were partners in biology this semester and _Billy_ is the one with solid A’s and enough patience to help Steve study without making him feel like a dumb piece of shit. Whatever. He’s smart and it's nice of him and maybe Steve’s played dumb a couple times just to have his company. Doesn’t mean shit.)

”Sure.”

Robin throws her compact in her bag, pulls out a booklet and folds to a page named _Unmissable Stops in NYC_. Billy rolls his eyes so hard Steve’s convinced they’re gonna fall outta his head. Can’t help but entertain that for a second.

“Do not tell me you’re just gonna go sightseeing with the rest of these hicks.”

Robin clicks her tongue, “What the fuck else is there to do?”

Click calls for everyone to get on and Steve shoulders his bag, follows the two of them onto the bus.

“She is right. Click will _murder_ us if we even think about doin’ anything else and I’m not risking graduation.”

“Nah, c’mon, that’s bull.” Billy shoulders past some kid, bares his teeth when they go to talk back, shoves himself down beside Steve. _Okay._ ”The way I see it, so long as we’re in one piece and back at that hotel every night, who gives a fuck? Seriously. When are we ever gonna get this lucky and far out of Assfuck, Indiana like this again? Besides, since when did you give a fuck what Click thought, Stevie?”

Steve knocks his knee against Billy’s, “Don’t call me that.”

Robin smiles something mean across the isle _,_ tilts her head at Billy. “I don’t know about you or the chemicals that’s obviously seeped out of that hair, but I’m outta here the second I graduate. Nashville, here I come.”

Steve groans and Billy laughs: at him or Robin, he doesn’t know. “Okay, but you’re not hearing me. _It's New York,_ Buckley _._ And you dweebs are seriously willing to, what, stay rooted up Click’s ass and tour galleries all weekend? Really?”

Steve pouts because he’s right. He will definitely never get the chance to come here again, not if his dad has any say in it, and he knows for a fact Click wouldn’t do shit if they disappeared. Hell, she’s probably expecting it.

“We’ll get in so much shit,” Steve sighs and Billy sucks his lip into his mouth, murmurs _attaboy_. He refuses to linger on that.

Then Click is asking everyone to be quiet as the bus starts up to listen to safety announcements. Billy pulls faces beside him when she mentions a strict ban on smoking in the hotel.

“Guess that’s you fucked,” Steve says, rests his head against the cool glass of the window. Billy shrugs a shoulder. 

“Whatever will I _do_?” Billy gasps, voice loud and exaggerated enough that Click is sending a glare their way. Steve hides his smile behind his palm.

“Thank you for that, Mr Hargrove,” She drawls, “Speaking of, I want to remind you all that room-sharing will be sorted alphabetically. If you have any issues, take it up with me once we arrive.”

That gets several groans but Steve just hums, eyeballing Billy for his reaction. It's either Tommy or Billy that he’s gonna be rooming with, and he’s not sure which is worse. Tommy… is Tommy. He’s a straight up asshole. No surprises there. But Billy is unpredictable, Billy makes him do shit like stutter and blush like a fucking girl. And he can’t have that.

Billy says nothing, settles back in the seat and offers him a wiggle of his eyebrows. Right, then.

He settles back, too, turns his gaze to frozen cornfields that the bus goes by until they’re stopping.

It hadn’t taken too long ‘til they’re pulling up to the grand, old airport Indianapolis has to offer. Or, it hadn’t felt long.

It's a hell of an eyesore, a big ass dome with fogged up windows and a floor as old as it is dirty. It kind of makes him want to sneeze.

Billy, on the other hand, seems fascinated by it. Actually goes quiet beside Steve all through check-in and security. No remarks or anything, just open awe as if he’s never seen - _oh_. 

“Nervous?” Steve airs when they’re sat waiting to board, swings his legs out in front of him. His soles scritch on the tile every time and it's worth it for the way Tommy glares at him across the way.

Billy makes a noise, tapping his fingers on his knee. It's bare, his jeans cut open a couple inches up his thigh. Makes goosebumps rise and he tells himself it's because it's so cold.

“Just don’t know what to expect,” He answers honestly, a little quietly. “You reckon the turbulence shit will be bad?”

He _was_ nervous.

Steve knocks their knees together, “You’ll be fine, man. It's just, like, traction. Like when it's a little icy, y’know?”

“Sure,” Billy scrunches his nose and that’s just. Not fair. Then, smirks. “Worse ways to go than being trapped in tight quarters with you for two hours.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs sharply, ears red. “You make it so fucking hard for me to be nice to you.”

Billy makes wet, kissy noises. “Let me have the window seat and maybe I’ll shut up.”

* * *

Billy does get the window seat and Steve watches _him_ the entire time the sun is setting, and his answering smile as he turns to Steve rivals it's warmth.

He looks away to Robin, Carol tucked in against and asleep on her. She shakes her head at him and he knows his face is flush.

Steve recognises he is all kinds of fucked.

* * *

Then _Billy_ falls asleep on him on the coach to the hotel, face pressed into his neck. He spends the whole time trying not to get hard at Billy’s breath on his throat. His lips against his skin. It's great. Just fucking Peachy.

* * *

And, like, nobody told him the hotel was gonna be this fancy. 

Or that the city was this level of pretty. He thought it was all in the movies. And maybe it is, the same way main street is the only part of Hawkins completely made up because it's the only part tourists go through. They’re staying in Manhattan, drowning in Christmas lights and full of little stores as much as it is huge stores. He spotted a Bloomindale’s double the size of Hawkins High just around the corner.

He kinda feels like a little kid when he’s staring up at the Christmas tree in the center of the lobby, decorated generously with baubles as big as his head and a star that bathes everything in gold. 

Billy leans back against a pillar, watches him. Steve’s ready to spit a _what?_ when a grin forms. It's not a mean one, not meant to mock or piss Steve off, no. It's genuine. Billy’s cheeks kind of go all cute and full when he smiles and it's. Steve can’t register that.

“It's something, huh,” Billy blows out a breath, gets their roomkey out of it's slip and puts it between his teeth. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods dumbly, has Billy smiling wider around it. 

“C’mon, let’s go try find the room.” There’s a warm hand at his back, “I’m tired as fuck.”

“Uh huh,” Steve stares up at the wide staircase ahead of them. “Looks like there’s at least ten floors. My legs are gonna fall off, man.”

“We’re only on the fifth floor, pussy,” Billy snorts to the dismay of a woman walking by who tuts in disgust. He presses forward and begins to ascend the stairs. “It’ll be good to stretch our legs, the elevator’s just a floor up. C’mon.”

Steve does just that, traipsing up the stairs after him with minimal grumbling since Billy has both of their duffels over his shoulder. Had taken Steve’s without question.

The elevator is equally as fancy as the lobby, fairy lights donning the rails that Steve leans back against

“Geez,” Billy breathes out a laugh, and, like. Yeah. It's unreal. Even for a guy who, admittedly, grew up well off. In a house with a dozen more rooms than it needed. 

“Yeah,” Steve yawns just to fill the silence, pretends he’s not watching Billy toy with the lights.

Soft lighting follows them down the hallway when they get to their floor, making him way more sleepy than he was initially. Which is, like, a _lot_.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy murmurs as he’s pushing the keycard in the slot, “If you wanna get some sleep, it's all you gotta say. I’ll keep the fuck quiet.”

“Nah, it's okay,” Steve blinks up at Billy, owlish, and watches his face go soft. Which is something he wasn’t aware Billy was capable of emoting.

Billy pushes open the door and drops their bags by it. Practically drags Steve into the room and he goes, pliant. Then Billy switches the light on.

And. 

There’s chocolates and rose petal hearts and a bucket of champagne on the bed. The only bed.

“Uh,” Steve says uselessly, undoing his jacket and throwing it over one of several armchairs. Because there is a whole dining table they belong to. Beside the floor to ceiling windows revealing the Manhattan skyline. 

“Must’ve given us the wrong room,” Billy huffs, weirdly refusing to look Steve in the eye as he toes off his shoes, “‘Least it's got a good fucking view. Look at that.”

Steve stops staring down the bucket while his cheeks are on fire and looks to the skyline instead. It really is beautiful, the night sky dark and the lights of a nocturnal city bathing everything in unnatural gold. It's like a postcard or some shit. Just stunning.

“It's beautiful,” Steve says honestly, feels his mouth tugging up because he’s wanted this since he was a kid even though it was impossible. And now, he’s here, Billy fucking Hargrove at his side because they somehow got left with a honeymoon suite. It's unreal but it's incredible. Right in front of him.

He turns to Billy, finds him looking right back, “It is.”

Billy’s nostrils flare, his eyes wide. And so, so blue. Searching for something. Steve looks away and back to the view outside, willing himself not to do something dumb like try to kiss him.

“Um, _so._ There’s only one bed.”

“Mm,” Billy hums, dancing a hand along the wooden shelves below the television and clutching the remote. “That bother you?”

“No,” Steve shrugs despite how much his stomach churns, wonders how exactly he ended up here.

“Good, me either,” Billy actually smiles at him before making his way to their bed and, nope. Steve is _not_ going there.

Billy pops open the bottle and Steve notes some small, fancy Italian title. He pats the bed beside him and Steve’s tongue goes flat in his mouth. He clears his throat and ambles up it, sits up straight against the headboard. 

Their knees touch again.

Billy takes a long swig from the bottle, lets out a sigh and wordlessly passes it to Steve.

Steve rotates it in his hand to get a better look and laughs before taking a mouthful himself. It's sweet and heavy on his tongue, almost unbearably, and it reminds him of every Harrington Christmas when his father would pull out the fancy shit from his cabinet for every guest but him. He takes another swig.

“What’s so funny?” Billy tilts his head, resting his chin on his knee. 

“ _Pienno de bolle,_ ” He reads out, and Billy’s brows draw up more. “This shit’s gotta be worth, what, a hundred dollars at least. And it's literally named _bubbly_.”

Billy snorts a laugh, gaze flitting between the bottle and Steve as he takes it back and drinks. It hits Steve that they’re essentially swapping spit, here, and his stomach loops.

“You know Italian?”

And he actually sounds interested.

“Um, yeah. My mom’s Italian, it's her native language and everything so I had no choice but to learn it when I was a kid. It's kinda stuck.”

“Suits you,” Billy says, and bites at his cheek.

“ _Grazie_ ,” Steve retorts and Billy rolls his eyes, laugh soft. “You wanna see what shit they’ve got on tv?”

“Sure,” Billy smiles, popping a caramel in his mouth.

Steve grins back, pulls the covers over him and settles the bottle on the bedside table. Switches the main light off when the television turns on.

They end up watching Christmas movies which is fine, actually, and he falls asleep to Billy humming _It's a Wonderful Life._

* * *

They wake up late, too late for Steve to sort his hair before Robin is pounding on their door. 

He stands, runs his hands through his hair because he isn’t an animal, and opens up to her dressed and ready.

“It's seven,” He says, voice scratchy. 

She shrugs, purses cherry-red lips as she shamelessly stares into their room. “Click wants everyone downstairs in ten minutes.”

“I thought we agreed we were _not_ going to snotty museums,” Billy chooses that moment to pipe up from the bed, hair mussed and stuck to his face. There’s still petals all over the bed. The floor, too.

“Yeah, you guys did,” Robin murmurs, eyes wide as she all but shoved her way past Steve and into the room. He glares down at the spot where she stood before following her. “What is happening here, exactly?”

“We got the wrong room,” Steve hurries out, cheeks flaming as she looks between he and Billy, still wrapped up in the sheets. He looks adorable, innocent, his hair a mess under completely the fucking opposite of his usual self.

“I can see that,” She grins, delighted, “Click would have a fucking heart attack if she knew.”

Billy stretches his arms above his head, shameless, the sheets pooling at his waist. Steve doesn’t stare. Doesn’t.

“Wait ‘til she finds out we’re halfway across New York.”

“Mm,” Robin looks pointedly at Steve, “You sure you can handle a whole day together without ripping each other’s heads off?”

“Dunno,” Billy sits up, gestures for Steve to hand over his bag. He throws it at his chest. “Think you can handle me, baby?”

Something hot climbs Steve’s spine at that phrase, pools in his gut. He grins, “Do your best.”

“Jesus Christ,” Robin groans, standing again from the chair and making her way out, “As I said, Click wants everyone downstairs in ten. I suggest getting out of here before then.”

Billy groans from where he’s pulling on a sweater - something he thought impossible for Billy to own - and Steve has to agree.

* * *

They decide on Staten Island barely two hours into touring Manhattan.

The streets are impossibly busy, drowning in people and decorations too bright for this early in the morning. It's barely nine and it's still dark out _yet._ Everyone on the fucking planet has decided to embark on Wall Street. Horns blare as they cross the street, headlights making the early morning unattainably bright and loud and _nothing_ like what he was used to.

The biggest city he’s been in this close to Christmas was fucking Indianapolis for fuck’s sake. And every face they pass just looks downright _miserable,_ as grey as the buildings, the pathway beneath his feet. _Jingle Bells_ and _Step into Christmas_ blare from inside neighbouring stores that they stand by to catch a breath.

“Why are so many people shopping a _week_ before Christmas, what the fuck is wrong with these people,” Billy’s muttering in his ear, the collective sea of bodies pushing them together. Steve huffs, grabs onto his arm as they cross the street. Revels in the heat that meets his palm.

“Guess there’s so much choice they don’t know where to go first,” Steve suggests, stares up at a bauble twice his size at the corner of the street. “Speaking of - what the hell do you want to do?”

“I have no idea,” Billy smiles at him, blows air into his bare palms. “But if one more mom hits me in the face with a H&M bag I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it, Stevie, I swear to fuck.”

Steve laughs freely and watches him tie his hair back as they make their way into the park anyway, exposing a slender neck, light freckles covering the skin. 

“We could, ah, go to a gallery? Or something?”

“Right,” Billy purses his lips, “And pay like fifty dollars to see paint shitted on a canvas and called abstract? Yeah, _no._ ”

“Okay,” Steve breathes out a laugh, winces at a cab beeping right by them and sleet splashing up his pant leg. “What about a museum, then?”

Billy tilts his head, “Actually, there is one place I’d kinda like to go. On Staten Island?"

“Yeah, anything,” He doesn’t question the sudden insistence, “It’d be nice to get away from - _this_.”

“Sure thing,” Billy says, gets his map out and it does shit to him. Like, the mere thought of Billy not being an asshole turns him to goop. “Ferry ports’ like ten minutes that way.”

Again, Steve doesn’t question it. Finds it endearing and leans further into his warmth. “Lead the way, Frodo.”

Billy cackles, throws his arm loose around him.

* * *

Snug Harbour is absolutely beautiful.

Every bit of it feels stuck in time, worlds away from the city and America itself. They take a tour of the grounds, of the gardens and river that runs through it even if it's mostly buried under snow fast turning to ice in the morning cold. It's still beautiful, winter foliage poking through and surviving such harsh weather.

He can’t stop staring at it, at the nature that perseveres and the buildings that seem frozen in time. He’s overwhelmed by the sights, as is Billy, who surprises him and then some by asking the guide a bunch about the grounds. He’s still staring when they finally stop to eat at midday. They somehow found a place to eat on the bridge connecting two aged buildings overlooking the lake and the gardens that surpass. 

He breathes in, enjoys the fresh air that fills his lungs no matter how cold. It's a stark contrast to Manhattan, even Hawkins, where everything in the air is stifling and _wrong_.

“Alright,” Steve speaks around his churro, leant back against the railings. He watches a bird bobbing along the water, colliding with a lilypad. He snorts. “Are you gonna tell me how the fuck you knew about this place?”

“Stole Buckley’s book,” Billy grins, long-since finished with his food and instead playing with the gloves he bought on the ferry here, “Thought this place sounded less touristy, that you might like it, maybe.”

Steve knows his face must go all mushy and telling because Billy’s ears go red. “I do. It's really peaceful, man. You’d have no idea it's even in Staten Island, New York, even. We could be anywhere right now.”

“Yeah,” Billy breathes out, sounding a little shaky, and he corrects his beanie on his head. “It's really fuckin’ nice.”

Steve throws his container in the trash nearby, licks cinnamon from his lips. “It's so quiet, too. Do you wanna get going anytime soon?”

Billy hums, bites at his cheek, which is a tell Steve is quickly learning to mean his shitty facade has slipped and he’s holding back on something. Uncomfortable with sharing. Steve likes it a lot.

“We could check out the talk inside, if you want. I think it starts in like an hour.”

Steve bites his lip so hard his teeth ache, “The- the one with the, uh, the lesbian author?”

Billy toys with his gloved finger and the ring beneath. Doesn’t seem to question why exactly Steve knows so much about it, and, oh yeah. Maybe he knows about Robin and assumes that’s why. “Yeah. I just, ah, I just thought-”

“Sure,” Steve cuts in, grabs for his hand before he can stop himself, “That’d be.. cool. If you’d really like to?"

It feels like something substantial when Billy squeezes his hand and meets his eyes. His eyes are as polar as their environment. “I really want to.”

“Okay,” Steve grins despite how his heart rabbits, thumbs Billy’s wrist, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, dumbass, you see how many people are here? I want good seats.”

Billy’s face twists and he has this silly smile on his face, “This isn’t the opera or whatever the fuck your rich ass parents dragged you to, _Steven_ , I don’t think people are gonna be foaming at the mouth to get in.”

“Ah, well, I’m going now anyway, so...” He turns and walks through the archway. Hears Billy huff a laugh before footsteps follow after him.

* * *

He’s sneaking glances at Billy all throughout the reading, especially when she reads the passage about the first time she’d kissed a woman. How it felt right, how she hadn’t realised it could feel like that. That she was allowed to. Billy’s stock still in his seat, hanging onto her every word. Steve reaches out for his hand again.

“You good?” He whispers, gets shushed by an elderly woman sat beside him, and Billy nods. Tangles their fingers together and turns back to the podium.

He’s still got a loose grip on Billy’s hand when it's over and they’re getting up to leave and Billy lets him. Tightens his hold, actually, smiles small and _shy_ at him when Steve raises a brow.

“What’d you think?” Steve swings their hands and Billy turns to look at him, loose curls falling in his face. 

“‘It was really nice. Just, I don’t know. That was really cool of her to do. Brave, too.”

“Yeah,” Steve blinks away the weakened sun in his eyes, “It was really great. Thanks for bringing me.”

Billy runs his thumb along the back of Steve’s hand, once, twice, and he thinks that’s his way of expressing gratitude too.

The city is finally waking up to the day around them, streets quiet and thawed out save for a tourist or two as they walk. It’s so peaceful, the air salty and fresh on his tongue, that he can’t help but smile. It's somewhere between reality and serenity, with Billy’s hand so tight in his, a reality he shouldn’t be a part of. He savours it, the unknown, welcomes it.

A drop of water falls in his face and he groans, wipes it away with his thumb. Looks up to heavy clouds embracing the weakened sun of the winter, like lovers entwined.

Billy swings their arms, breathes out a quiet laugh. “This is kinda insane, right? Like, this whole thing. We’re in _New York_ and you’re holding my hand.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, grinning at him. A drop of rain trails Billy’s face, ends up perched on his cupid’s bow. “You’ve got...”

Billy’s brows draw together and he wipes at his cheek. Steve huffs, feels his chest constrict, and thumbs Billy’s lip. His gaze dips to Steve’s hand, lashes fluttering, and he feels Billy’s soft exhale.

“There you go,” He finishes, dumb, too shaky. He tries for a smile with his heart clawing up his throat.

Billy blinks, lashes fawning his cheeks slow and heavy, “Thanks.”

“We should, um, get outta the rain.”

“Yeah,” Billy smiles, small and genuine, before pulling him further down the street, dipping between bodies and under storefronts that drip with rain.

It fast begins to fall in heavier drops, the air thick with moisture and the sweetness of Billy’s cologne, and he snorts a laugh because Hawkins is buried under snow right now and New York is swimming in rain. A chill climbs his spine as the rain clings to his sweater, and Billy’s grin does little to resolve it.

“I told you to bring your jacket, dickhead,” Billy grins over at him, hair stuck to his face and dripping water in his eyes, “C’mon.”

They duck into an alleyway between a bakery and a gift store where an overhang shelters them from the worst of the weather as a rumble sounds. The backdoor is open, bags of sugar strewn across the floor by the dumpster. The wind whips around them and when Steve licks his lips they taste vaguely of sugar.

He pushes forward into the alley, ignoring how his shoes squelch, and walks through the cloud of sugar. Spins in it, mouth wide, and when he opens his eyes it's to Billy watching him.

Billy steps closer, smile wide, and a little breathless. He pushes Steve’s hair from his face, nose scrunched up as his hand retreats coated in white.

“You’re so pretty,” Billy hums, thumbing Steve’s cheekbone. He lets his eyes fall shut as his chest heaves and falls. There’s a hand on his hip, pushing him back until his back hits brick, and Billy’s breath fanning against his lips.

Steve swallows, leaning up to card a hand through the hair at the nape of Billy’s neck. He’s coated in the stuff now, too. 

“I saw how you looked when she brought up kissing a girl for the first time,” Steve whispers, curls his fingers so gently at Billy’s jaw, tilting his face up. His eyes are dark, nothing but a thin line of blue ringing them. Steve aches for him. “Is- am I-”

“ _Yes_ ” Billy breathes, then he’s cupping Steve’s face in both of his hands, “I haven’t - with a guy before. I have girls, y’know, just didn't really feel anything. It was nice, I guess. But I wanted… I want it to be you.”

“Oh,” Steve’s pretty sure this should make him nervous. But he’s full of warmth, head to toe, because Billy wants him to be his _first_. 

He doesn’t have to think about it when he leans in and meets Billy halfway. He gets a gasp against his mouth, Billy’s hands stuttering. He waits, takes his lip in his mouth and sucks and _that._ That’s what gets Billy. That’s what his him kissing Steve back, pressing him against brick and licking into his mouth with a groan.

He’s floating, Steve thinks, as Billy’s tongue breaches his lips and finds his like they’ve done this before. He tugs at Billy’s curls and pulls him _closer, closer, closer._ Wants to be covered by him, enveloped in his warmth. Billy’s tongue presses hot and heavy against his, and there’s a whine pulled from the back of Steve’s throat because he can’t believe this is real.

“ _Baby,_ ” Billy rasps against the corner of his mouth when they break away to gasp for air, presses an open kiss there. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. You got no clue what you do to me.”

Steve _thinks_ he replies, his brain turned to fucking mush, and pulls Billy in again. He grins against Steve’s mouth but melts instantly, licks into his mouth and presses his body flush against Steve’s. Steve tingles with static at every point of touch, wanting him closer.

Their lips drag and each press of Billy’s tongue along the roof of his mouth, his own tongue, has him panting. It’s so much, too much, not enough. He wants more, feels heat spike in his belly when Billy’s hand pushes up his sweater and brushes bare skin at his hip.

“Fuck,” He’s catching his breath, something between a giggle of disbelief and a hiccup escaping when Billy starts to press wet, lazy kisses along his jaw. “Billy?”

“Mm?”

Billy’s lashes flutter as he pulls back, lips lingering until the last possible second. He strokes at Steve’s hip again, lips pressed together until they break into a wide smile. 

“That was, uh. What’s wrong?” He says, impossibly gentle, catches Steve’s hand and brings it to his mouth. Sucks sugar dusting off of the tip of his finger and has Steve on edge all of a sudden, so much that he’s about to fucking _die._

“You said...” Steve breathes a laugh as a sole drop of rain drips from the overhang and onto Billy’s face, totally breaking the whole soultry act. Laughs so much that his stomach cramps, until Billy is laughing too and they’re clutching at their stomachs.

Billy leans his head on Steve’s shoulder, trembling with silent laughter. “What did I say?”

He tangles his fingers in the tight curls drying at Billy’s nape, “You hadn’t been kissed by a guy before, how’d I do?"

“I feel boneless,” Billy grins against his shoulder, leans back to stroke his thumb over his cheek. “I get why they call you that now; _King_ Steve _._ Shit.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Steve laughs, veins bubbling with warmth and he kisses him again because he can. 

“Sorry,” Billy says, impossibly quiet and avoiding his face, like he’s _shy,_ “This is what you do to me, Harrington. Get me all giddy and all that girly shit. Every day in that damn school, I say all that shit ‘cause I want you to look at me. Best day of my fuckin’ life when you started talking to me. Didn’t think you would after-”

Steve presses a kiss to his cheek, watches Billy’s face heat. “Every day you just surprise me more, you know. I like it. I like _you_.”

“You too,” Billy’s biting at his bottom lip to keep from smiling, his gaze locked on Steve’s lips, “You wanna head back? Looks like the rain stopped.”

“Five more minutes,” Steve murmurs, already drawing Billy back in and pulling a groan of Steve’s name from him when he moves to kiss below his ear.

It's raining again by the time he can rip himself from Billy but he’s so _happy_ he doesn’t care about the inevitable cold he’s gonna get. Hell, pneumonia is worth Billy’s hands on him.

* * *

They grab food from a stall in Manhattan for when they get back. Well, Steve does. Billy eats his on the bus, licks at the mustard on his hot dog so much and so obscenely that Steve is half-ashamed that it turns him on.

Regardless, and by some kind of miracle, they manage to get to the hotel just before everyone else.

The bus is pulling up as they run down the side of the hotel and in through a back door. Steve winces when it slams shut and Billy tugs him through a short hallway, back into a kitchen that is blessedly empty. And full of prepped food.

“You think they saw us?” Steve asks, breathing in the spices and smell of hot, cooked food. Food that’s definitely overpriced.

“Probably not,” Billy hums, crowds closer to him, “Who cares?”

“Uh, me?” Steve squeaks when Billy starts kissing up his neck, hand at the small of his back, “Click is an asshole. Any opportunity she has to fail me, she’ll take it.”

“Mm, better hope she didn’t, then,” Billy’s voice rumbled against his jaw as he nips at it. He kisses at the corner of Steve’s mouth, soft and slow, and has a low groan leaving his throat.

“ _Billy_ ,” Liquid heat rushes through his veins and straight to his dick, “Stop it. Someone could come in here, Jesus.”

“Not doing anything, baby,” He speaks low before drawing Steve into a kiss. Deep and slow, has Steve tingling down to his toes. And he _wants_ him, feels feverhot when Billy presses a thick thigh between his own.

It's something electric, striking and hot when Billy grinds against him, hand venturing lazily along the bumps of his vertebra. Like they’ve done this so many times before, like they were always meant to map each other’s mouths out like this.

Steve lets out a happy little hum and Billy’s smiling too, pulling back to press their foreheads together. They pant together and Steve feels _dizzy_ , feels stockfull of want, of adoration. He’d never felt like this with Nancy; so desperate for it, so keen and willing and on edge.

The glitz and wonder of the hotel, of the big city, all melt away. All he knows is Billy and his hands on him, rings cool against his skin.

“You know, she’s right,” Billy mumbles in the little space between them.

“Who?” Steve asks, couldn’t recall his own name right now if Billy so much as asked.

“That author, dumbass. When she said how, how you can go your whole life pretending you’re something you’re not. Then someone like you comes along and shit just makes sense all of a sudden. Like, clicks into place or something.”

Steve catches his hand, presses his lips to a scarred knuckle. “I’ve wanted you for so long, you know.”

“Me too,” Billy says, “Ever since Tina’s party.”

“That long?” Steve hums, wraps his arms around Billy’s waist. “Shit, I got off to you calling me pretty in the showers so many times. _For months._ Don’t know how my dick didn’t fall off.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy chuckles, cages him in, “Good.”

Steve’s just leaning in to kiss him again when a door slams and they’re jerking apart.

There’s a woman staring at them, a chef by the looks of her hat in her hands that settle on her hips.

“It's not-” He starts as the same time as Billy starts to stammer but she holds up a hand.

“You really shouldn’t be back here,” is all she says, gives them an amused smile, “Go. I never saw a thing.”

Steve nods, cheeks flaming, and pulls Billy along with him out of the door she entered through while she grumbles something about teenagers.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Billy blinks, and Steve huffs a laugh born out of nerves and bewilderment.

They’re just walking up to the lobby when Robin spots them. Waves them over to her and Carol where they’re stood in the corner away from the rest of their class.

“Well, hello,” Robin greets as she tips back a mouthful of Nerds, hands them to Carol wordlessly, “How was your day?”

“Uh, fun,” Steve smiles, can’t help but look back at Billy who’s grinning right back at him. Realises they’re still damp at best, Billy’s hair curly and stuck to his face and Steve’s shoes dredging water through the carpet flooring. His pants had _just_ dried on the way back. “Got caught in the rain.”

Carol makes a sound that’s vaguely mocking, “You poor things. You know what the _highlight_ of our day was? Being stuck in an elevator with a guard for an hour.”

“Can’t think of anything more boring than looking at squirts of paint all day,” Billy nods, looks like he couldn’t care less and throws his arm over Steve’s shoulder. “That said, I’m tired after actually doing shit today. So…”

Carol squints, “You’re not coming to dinner?”

Steve shakes the bag in his hand, “Don’t need it.”

“Aw, you’re staying in for the night?” Carol grins and Steve struggles to get whether it's mean or teasing. He assumes both. Always both with Carol. Even if she’s a little less of an asshole since she started sticking her tongue down Robin’s throat. “Romantic.”

Steve bites at his cheek, “Or maybe I don’t wanna spend an hour listening to you bitch about people I don’t know and eat something other than grass.”

Robin clicks her knuckles, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Billy licks over a grin beside him, kinda reminds him of a predator, “Later, ladies. Enjoy the fish shit.”

Robin blows out a laugh, takes Carol’s hand and pulls her back toward the group, “Enjoy salmonella! See you tomorrow!”

“Hey,” Billy’s saying when they’re up waiting in the elevator, “I seriously had a really nice time today.”

“Me too,” Steve lays his head on Billy’s shoulder, beginning to ache after a long day. The rain probably did _not_ help. “Kinda felt like a dream.”

“What’s up?” Billy hums, touches a hand to his forehead. Steve bats it away with a laugh.

“Just tired, man. And I fucking ache. Eighteen years old and I’m already fucked up by the cold? The fuck?”

“Mm, you old fuck,” Billy says with little malice against his hair, presses a kiss to it. “Do you want to nap?”

“Nah, just this,” Steve hums as the doors ding open.

They walk the brief hallway to their room, Billy humming some metal song quietly under his breath. He thinks it's Iron Maiden.

“Are you in pain?” Billy asks as he unlocks the door and steps through. It slips shut quiet this time.

“A little, it's just my back, I guess,” Steve reddens, “It's fine, though. I’ll go shower then, uh, we can eat or whatever.”

“‘Kay,” Billy smiles in his direction before decidedly stepping closer to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can massage it for you?”

“Uh, sure,” He nods, cheeks flaming, and that’s that.

They both make quick work of showering. Steve’s in and out so quick he barely gets to enjoy the heat or pressure of the water but he’s vibrating under his skin at the thought of Billy’s hands on top of it.

He’s flicking through the TV channels when Billy comes out of the bathroom, towel loose at his hips and like, fuck his life. _Seriously_.

“Forgot my clothes,” Billy lies, badly, and moves for his duffle. Pulls on pyjama pants right there and flops onto the bed, right beside Steve.

“You’re obnoxious,” Steve airs, watching water drip from dark curls onto the pristine, white pillows.

Billy hums, tugs the control out of his hand to feigned dismay, “You know, I wasn’t kidding about massaging your back. If you want..?”

“I mean.. sure,” Steve goes for casual, heart in his mouth. “Go ahead.”

“Sit up?” Billy asks, doing so beside him. Steve nods, albeit stiffly, and does just that. Hears Billy shuffle forward and feels thighs bracket him in, hands settling on his shoulders. “This okay?”

“Uh huh,” Steve nods, “How’d you know to do this? Californian schools teachin’ you the art of massage therapy?”

Billy laughs softly, pushes Steve’s sleep shirt up his frame and Steve pulls it off, limbs like taffy. “No, no. I used to swim a lot, surfed way more. It wrecked my shit, I kinda had to learn.”

“Oh,” Steve says in response when Billy’s hand first makes contact with his bare skin, fingers working into his shoulder blade. He stutters, “O-on yourself? Is that even possible?”

“Yep,” He digs his thumbs in deeper, has Steve gritting his teeth at the sudden pressure. It's _nice_ , though. “You good?”

“Peachy,” Steve grunts, leaning back uselessly into the pressure that travels to his other shoulder blade. In its wake, it leaves nothing but static pleasure, his muscles blissfully relaxed. 

“‘Kay,” He can hear the smile in Billy’s voice, “You’re so worked up, Jesus. No wonder you’re so grouchy.”

“Hey, you’re one to talk,” Steve surprises himself at how hoarse he sounds, blinks slowly back at Billy when he smooths the heel of his palm over a knot and Steve hisses a groan.

“Least I own my shit, baby,” He sounds just as affected and it makes Steve shiver, goes straight to his groin. 

Another groan escapes as Billy ventures his spine and he kind of gives up trying to reign them in, anymore, pushes back against the touch. “You’re good at this, _Jesus_.”

Billy doesn’t reply, which is _odd_ , then he feels lips at the back of his neck. He shudders, feels pleasure zip through him as Billy digs a thumb into the dimple of his hip. 

“You feel good?” Billy doesn’t relent, bites into the flesh of his shoulder that meets his neck and makes him arch; into it, away from it, maybe a little of both.

“Mm,” comes Steve’s eventual answer, makes him flush because he sounds fucked out already, but he can’t help it. Not when Billy’s being so gentle, so thorough in easing out every ache from his back he’s ever felt. He feels looser at each dig into his back, all of his blood rushing from his head to his dick.

Billy brings a hand to his front, splays it over his stomach as he presses a kiss below his ear. Steve doesn’t have to think very hard at all when he turns his head and presses their lips together.

Billy groans, low and deep, kisses like he’s starved of it. Steve grips the back of his neck, tangles his fingers in wet curls and feels Billy shudder.

“I take it that’s a yeah,” Billy’s breathless laughter vibrates against Steve and he’s grinning too, can’t fucking help it,

“Yeah,” Steve grins against his mouth, turns and slots himself in Billy’s lap, straddles his hips. Billy’s breath hitches and he settles his hand on the small of his back, the other on his hip. The skin-on-skin contact, the warmth seeping through and settling in his bones makes him sigh.

“Can I-” He stops, meets eyes so dilated they’re almost black and his dick throbs in his pants. He’s so hard, is the thing, has been since Billy first got his hands on him and he aches. Wants Billy on him.

Billy’s thumb dips into his waistband and he tilts his head, “Can you…?”

“I want you,” Steve groans, in frustration, anticipation, a little bit of both. “Wanna touch you.”

Billy hums, “Lay down."

Steve nods, can’t get against the pillows quick enough, and Billy’s chuckling, presses a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. 

“Gonna blow you,” Billy says, runs a palm up his torso before drawing down his pyjama pants. Steve’s pretty sure he’s fucking died when Billy gets his hand around his length, strokes lazily and stares at it in awe. “Oh, baby, look at you.”

“Please,” Steve gets out, feels like he’s winded, bucks up into his grip.

 _Then_.

Then Billy’s lowering himself down his body, takes his time kissing down his stomach and smiling when at every quiver, every moan, until _finally._ He takes the head of him in his mouth, runs his tongue along the underside and moans like he’s the one getting off, here. And, shit, it's hot. Rips a moan straight out of Steve.

Billy hums, the vibration making Steve shake, and promptly takes all of Steve in his mouth. The wet heat, the pressure that envelops his cock makes him whine, high-pitched and drawn out. Billy bucks against his thigh, hand on his other squeezing. 

Steve can’t cope, torn between bucking up into it and wanting to lay back and let Billy have his way. He can’t believe he gets this, that he’s this fucking lucky, and he’s never been so turned on in his life. He cards his hands through Billy’s hair, grips onto it and watches a tremor rip through Billy.

Billy’s bobbing his head, cheeks hollowed as he does and he’s unreal. A fucking vision he doesn’t deserve as he peers up at Steve through thick lashes, his lips red and swollen around his cock.

All Steve can do is slump back, his hand clenched in Billy’s hair while he works over him. He feels close to sobbing, it feels so fucking good, and he can’t stop whining for him. The bed shakes as Billy ruts against the bed, getting off just as much as Steve and it's so hot. It's so hot that he’s the reason.

“You’re so- so- you’re perfect. Look so good, Billy, wanted this for so long-” He chokes out, feels so wrecked and he can’t do anything but take it.

Billy thumbs his thigh and somehow that’s what gets him, has his crying out as his stomach draws tight.

“I’m close, _please-_ ” He gasps a warning, can’t _stop_ as Billy’s throat works around him.

Billy groans, sucks him down harder, and his breath is punched out of him. It's so much, and he can’t stop thinking about fucking into him. About making Billy come apart like this and that’s-

He gives a weak thrust up into Billy’s mouth as he spills down his throat. It constricts around him as Billy swallows, pulls off to cry out his name.

“Oh, did you-” Steve can’t even finish the sentence, he’s robbed of all functioning thought, voice broken as he watches Billy pant against his hip.

“Yeah,” Billy gets out and, Jesus, his voice is hoarse. Wrecked. And Steve _caused_ that.

Billy crawls up him, collapses atop him with a grunt. Nuzzles into his neck and they’re both panting together as they ride the aftershocks.

“You broke me,” Steve says, strokes his fingers along Billy’s spine and feels him grin against his throat.

“Haven’t come in my pants like that in forever, Jesus,” He says, not at all ashamed of it. Gestures to the bathroom, “I’m gonna-”

Steve barks a laugh in surprise, releases his hold, “Okay, good. Absolutely no jizz allowed if you want cuddles, Bill, that’s universal.”

Billy cackles as he stumbles into the bathroom, leaving Steve smiling to himself and catching his breath like a loon. 

When he gets back, he shuts off the light, clambers onto the bed. Pulls Steve into his arms and makes him snort, his stomach flipping like he hadn’t just come down his fucking throat. He turns in his grip, throws an arm over his waist.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” Billy mumbles in the quiet, pulling the comforter over them. “I really fucking like you.”

“I had an inkling,” Steve smiles, bumps their noses together. “Fuck, I’m glad Robin hassled me into coming on this stupid fucking trip.”

“Mm, me too,” Billy says before kissing him, minty fresh and chaste. “It's not gonna be easy, y’know. This. I’m a real piece of shit.”

“I sleep with a nail bat at my feet. We’ll work through it,” Steve yawns, nuzzles up against his jaw and Billy hums.

“‘Kay,” He says, and Steve’s sure he’s right. They’re gonna have fuck ups and all that angsty teen bullshit. But right now? Right now, he’s on top of the fucking world.

He falls asleep as snow begins to hit the window.

* * *

When he wakes, it's with a cold and Billy sneezing behind him.

They call in sick from the class events planned. And keep preoccupied, nothing but the blizzard howling outside the window and persistent lighting shining through from the city that never sleeps to keep them company.

* * *

Billy helps him with deserts. Turns out, he’s a fucking pro at banofie pie. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is flayedgroves & my twitter is thchateaus come yell abt these boys with me


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